Until You Are Ready
by AnxSoc
Summary: Hawke approaches Fenris after their night of passion, and his dismissal of their relationship. This time, she takes a more indirect approach. Will Fenris accept Hawke's solution for his aversion to her touch, or will he deny her entirely? F!Hawke Rogue x Fenris one-shot, smutty and sweet.


**SPOILERS! - **Based on a Female Rogue Hawke, with the cannon features of the character, set shortly after the events that lead to the death of Hawke's mother.

While playing Dragon Age 2, I felt a little annoyed by the three year space in Hawke and Fenris's relationship. I imagined if they truly felt the kind of bond Fenris described as "A touch I remember like it was yesterday." and "Better than I could have dreamt." They would have found other ways to fulfill each other.

And then this very smutty idea popped into my head. And then it went kind of fluffy and sweet. I hope everyone enjoys. :)

Rated M for descriptions of masturbation and foreplay. Some parts of this story depict sexual acts, but I hope in a tastefully vague way. If you're not okay with that, then at least you were forewarned.

**LASTLY! I do not own Dragon Age or the characters, nor do I receive compensation for this work.**

* * *

Hawke had to dodge out of the way as Aveline stormed out of Fenris's borrowed mansion. The guard captain muttered, "Damned elf will be dragged in for squatting one of these days, mark my words!" Before continuing out of earshot, with hardly even a glare of acknowledgement in Hawke's direction.

After waiting a moment to see if any other exiting visitors might trample her, Hawke entered and was immediately surprised by the laughing ruckus she heard echoing out of the side parlor. As she hung up her weapons and dropped her pack, she could just make out Isabella's hair as she flicked a lock with a wave of her bangled wrist.

Varric's rumbling chuckle echoed back to her, "Take it from me, Rivaini, you should quit while you still have coin."

Varric stood as Hawke leaned against the doorway, amused and annoyed by the scene. Fenris lounged in his usual chair with his cards flat on the table as Isabella leaned forward with a pout. A pile of coins was strewn in front of Fenris's spot at the table, and a much smaller one at Isabella's end. Opposite Fenris the table was empty, and to his other side was a set of cards flipped up and pennyless.

It was clear now why Varric was walking out. The dwarf called back, "Same time next week?" before nodding to Hawke and walking into the cool night air with Bianca. Hawke watched him go, wondering how the man got so much done without ever seeming to have an ounce of gear on him besides his trusty crossbow. "Perhaps he hides everything in that chest hair," Hawke thought with a chuckle.

Isabella winked back at her, flicked her hair back again, and withdrew a card from her kerchief. Either Fenris already knew or he did not care. With the wine bottles strewn around them, perhaps he was too tipsy to notice Isabella's poorly hidden tricks.

Despite the cheat, they both bartered and revealed their hands, and Isabella's shocked face gaped back at the elf. "You-you cheat!" She stammered. "No way you-"

"I just let you cheat first." Fenris sneered. "I needed the last serpent, you were all too eager for the Wyvern Lord."

Isabella flushed red at the ears and struck a dagger into the table. Hawke flicked a hand to her belt before she remembered that she had laid her gear down in the entry hall. Isabella rolled her eyes and then stood in petulant silence. With a saucy hip-waggle, she turned and pressed herself through the doorway, rubbing against Hawke with a smirk and a little stroke of her finger along Hawke's jaw in passing.

"Enjoy the dagger, Fenris! Night loves!" She tittered as she finally slammed the front door.

"What was that?" Hawke turned back to Fenris, feeling a flush creep into her own face. It didn't matter how she felt about Isabella's actions, no man or woman could deny such a force of nature.

"Diamondback," Fenris chuckled as he examined the label of a half-finished bottle carefully. "We all play every Turnsday. I'm not winning as fast as I used to. They're finally learning."

"Ah," Hawke replied awkwardly. In truth, she wanted to ask why she had never been invited, but she appreciated how independant everyone was. It was good that they cleared out when they did, though; she wasn't sure how long she could keep her intentions buttoned up.

"How are you faring?" Fenris finally asked. Concern colored the tipsy delay in his voice. She expected that he was probably nowhere near as drunk as the bottles suggested. Perhaps another of his card strategies at work. "Your mother, I mean-"

"All my family are in the grave or the gallows," Hawke snapped unintentionally. "I can accept _that_. In time."

Fenris studied her askance, "That?" He repeated.

Hawke held his gaze, thinking longingly on the distance between them. She wanted to throw him to the ground, to crush her lips against his again. Even just a touch, even just a moment to feel the warmth of his skin or run her fingers through his hair might be enough. Just a moment was all she wanted to bridge the distance that he had thrown up between them.

"I came by to…to..." Hawke's usual confidence evaporated. She couldn't think of a good way to say how she felt without it seeming like an attack. "It was better than I could have dreamed," Fenris had told her before breaking her heart. The painful thought shot a coarse fire through her chest. She let out a long sigh and began to unclasp her doublet. With a few quick snaps she opened the armor to her ribs and flapped the leather against her chest. It was so hot in here with that fireplace.

As she watched his eyes travel over her body, she smiled reassuringly, "I've been thinking about you," She chuckled, "In fact, it's rather… distracting."

"Don't," Fenris commanded. "You know I can't… your touch is to-"

"Then I won't touch you," Hawke replied curtly, holding his eyes with her as she popped the last few closures open, rolling her shoulders to let the doublet slide over her arms and drop to the ground. "You didn't give me a chance to respond that night. You just left. But I respect you, Fenris. I'm not going to force myself on you."

"I… that is-" Fenris stammered.

"Command me to go, if you like," Hawke whispered, leaning over him with her hands grasping the chair back. The tips of his hair brushed her thumbs as their eyes met mere inches apart.

"I do not hold you," Fenris finally said between quick breaths. "You know how beautiful you are. You could have any company you desired." Hawke wondered how he could say this despite the red scarf she knew he carried on him. The scarf she had given him from he mementos of Lothering.

"I don't want just _any_ company," Hawke clicked her tongue and leaned back, risking a flick of her fingertips through his bangs in passing. She sat down on the table without thinking, scattering coins and cards to either side of her, enunciating her thoughtlessness with a hundred clinks and metallic scrapes they bounced and rolled over the uneven tiles. Her eyes stayed fixed on his, even as an nervous smile tugged at the edges of both of their lips. She wiggled to try and get more comfortable, and more coins scattered, drawing out the stillness in the room until she finally shoved the pile sideways, and smirked as Fenris became even more flustered than before.

"Now you're just looking for attention." Fenris sighed.

"What if I am?" Hawke chirped back.

"As I said before, you have no shortage of admirers. Isabella, Merill, hell, even Anders would-"

"I don't _want_ them." Hawke growled back. "I don't _need_ them."

Fenris gaped back at her, and she continued, "_Like I need you… _I know you won't touch me. _Can't_ touch me. I understand. I'll wait for you, but," Hawke licked her lips and shoved a hand through her cropped ebony hair to try and force the strain from her neck, "but until you're ready. I need… _something._"

Within Fenris's glare was a frown of concentration, and tightness in the way he clenched the arms of the chair she knew all too well. With a victorious smile, Hawke plucked at the small ties lacing her shirt, gradually opening the delicate fabric from neck to navel one eyelet at a time. All the while she watched carefully as his body responded more honestly than he ever would aloud. As she tugged the at the bottom-most eyelet the fabric stretched tight along her chest, crinkling around her breasts and revealed how hard her nipples had become. She could see each shift in focus as she observed him in return.

The arousal just from seeing him watching her was intense. "Do you want to see more?" Hawke purred.

Through clenched teeth, Fenris finally replied, "Yes."

As gracefully as Hawke could manage with shaking hands, she tugged at the bottom hem tucked into her trousers, and crossed her arms to draw the silk over her head in one sweep. Fenris had finally relaxed into a half-smile, which made it all the better when she whipped the removed garment into his face.

"I'm two ahead of you," Hawke grinned, "Time to catch up."

Fenris snapped, "You said no touching."

"I said I wouldn't touch _you_," Hawke hinted. With a swift raise of her leg, she pointed the toe of her boot into the front edge of his chair. "If you don't start stripping, your pants might not survive the night."

For a moment, his scowl was laced with wide-eyed panic, but he narrowed his eyes and laughed back, "Alright. Fair enough." With a few deft flicks he unclasped the toggles of one gauntlet, and then the other, throwing them to the ground next to him and resting his clasped hands at his waist.

"Throwing down the guantlets?" Hawke quipped, "I hope I don't run out of clothes _before _you."

"I wouldn't mind," Fenris smirked.

Fenris's intense scrutiny made Hawke's heart race. When her thoughts stumbled, she replied by removing a boot. In turn he unbuckled his belt, and rewarded her with a less obscured view of the erection that was pressing painfully into the seams of his pants. Another boot removed, and Fenris worked at the closures of his breastplate, eventually grunting with impatience as visible as hers had felt these past few weeks.

Hawke unwrapped the bindings around her helm, glancing to Fenris between the strips, until the padded cap fell to the ground with a clatter. She licked her lips as her fingers tapped the top of her thigh. Fenris caught her nervousness immediately, and commented, "You've been topless this whole time. Yet _now _you're uncomfortable?"

"Yes. No. It's just… it's all much more straight forward when you're just jumping someone. I'm not sure where this goes from here." Though, the comment from Fenris made her realize how longingly he was staring at her chest. It made her pulse pound in her ears to watch his gaze trail from her shoulders to where her chest heaved up in shallow breathes.

"Really? You seem like you've done this before." Fenris replied breathlessly.

"Oh, no," Hawke shot him her usual confident smile, "I'm making it up as I go along." Plucking the toe of her sock, she extended her leg out towards him playfully, before flicking it off behind her and placing her leg outside his, spreading her legs as she rested back on her elbows. "I'm up by three now."

"Do socks really count?" Fenris grimaced, fussing with the column of hooks and eyes that secured his tunic.

"Just because you don't wear them?" Hawke grinned cat-like back at him, "If my socks don't count, neither do those…" Hawke waved at his elbow-guards as she grasped for words, "arm caltrops!"

"Alright, fair enough." Fenris stood, shrugging off the mantle and arm guards, and setting them gently to the side. Hawke glanced at them as they clinked against the ground, thinking, "Must remember where those are. Don't want to step on THOSE half awake…"

With another shrug, he swung his tunic around onto his forearm and laid it neatly over the neighboring chair. He stood over her, fixed in place by her legs to either side of him, and a gamble neither of them had fully understood when they began the game. The fireplace roared behind him, and in the flickering glow of the room, the lyrium brands hummed a pale blue in the shadow he cast over her.

She wanted to map him, burn the image into her mind of each turn of flesh, each finial and design across his skin. But all she could do was look, and take in his body with her eyes, try to see what passion had obscured in their previous hurry.

"You really are… beautiful," Fenris whispered adoringly, no longer scowling responses to each of her advances. It took her by surprise, made every inch of skin burn under his gaze. She wanted to respond back how he brought her to frustration with even a smile. How she watched him when he didn't notice her. How she knew he watched her in return. How she wanted to just wrap her arms around him and feel his muscles move under her hands as their warmth merged and his heart beat under her ear.

Instead, she lay back and pulled the lacings from her hips, arching her back and lifting her thighs to slide her pants down from her waist, savoring the look on his face as her last defenses were laid bare before him. His stoic demeanor finally fell away with a hitch of his breath.

"Oh, these?" Hawke teased, pulling her pants to her knees to fully reveal the lacy black panties she favored. "Believe it or not the Orlesians make some damn comfortable garments. Wait, what are you-"

Hawke gasped as Fenris's hot breath hit the top of her thighs, sliding down to her knees as he grasped her waistband to help her undress. He had leaned forward, suddenly intent on taking in the sight of her much closer up. His fingertips traced over her calves through the supple leather of each pants leg, clenching for a moment as he stared down between her legs hungrily. She could feel each needy breath hit her skin, a brief touch of warmth against the goosepimples rising up and down her legs. His grip lingered as he concentrated, thumbs tracing circles over her ankles through the folds of fabric, before he finally freed her of her clothes with a final tug.

The white wisps of his bangs tickled over the inside of her thighs, sending tremors down her body. She didn't dare move her hands from the edge of the table, where they remained clenched to hold her up, bracing to keep her hips up. Fenris's eyes closed reverently, inhaling deep through his nose. A satisfied moan escaped Hawke as she tossed her head back. He breathed in her scent again, and cool and warm air teased her as he paused at her threshold.

"Hold still now," Fenris whispered.

"Why? oh!" Hawke cried out, feeling his teeth pinch up the lace, and his fingertips hooked into the sides. She trembled with excitement and the strain of keeping her hips off the table, willing herself not to flinch and break his firm rule. A touch might be bliss, but it would mean the end of their divisive game. The soft lace traced down the curve of her legs like an extension of his fingers.

"Lift your feet," Fenris commanded.

Hawke whipped her head up as she rocked into a more curled position, setting her feet wide to either side of him after he flicked the panties onto the chair behind him.

"Two," Hawke panted, nibbling her lower lip, "I'm up by two again,".

Fenris grinned back nervously, "Is that so?"

His attention stayed fixed on her body as he slowly stood, beginning to unbutton his pants. His leggings were plainer than hers, but fixed closed at the ankles, thighs and waist to accommodate the close fit and that strange elven fascination with keeping the soles of your feet on the ground. As he fumbled, she watched his movements, lost in the arch of his back and the play of the muscles of his arms as he strained against his own clothing. Even the shadows of his collarbone was foreign and exciting. Despite the glowing lyrium lines he pridefully displayed in the cutwork of his armor, there were so details within the design that she wondered if she was the first to see.

Hawke's hand slid toward her crotch as she watched his expressions soften from resolute to a tender frown of nervous anticipation. She felt her own anticipation, slick and damp even in the hair at the crest of her womanhood. "Torture. Sweet torture," Hawke thought with a wicked grin as he finally stepped out of his pants.

"The last bit too," Hawke purred, unable to stare away from the tip of his erection that had already slipped free of his underwear. Unlike the rest of his outfit, these were just a loose slip of silk, not like the dalish cover-everything corsetry she'd seen on Merrill when they camped out on missions, or the black doesn't-hide-anything strap that anyone could see on Isabella if you were trying for a peek or not.

With a flick of his wrist, the silk hit the floor, and he kicked it away with a toe. Hawke could feel the leering grin spreading across her face. In return, Fenris's face was slowly burning more and more pink, made more obvious in contrast to the blue lyrium that was beginning to pulse with light under his skin. "Do you enjoy tormenting me?" Fenris finally spat out.

"Yes?" Hawke snickered. "It's only fair. It's you who's been tormenting me," Hawke sighed, and slid her hand down to the inside of her thigh, brushing downwards, and hooking her fingers into her sex as she drew her hand back up. The result was Fenris's sudden and undivided attention. as he watched her beginning to explore her wetness.

"That is," Fenris licked his lips, "Unfair. You know why I-"

"Please," Hawke breathed out, spreading herself between her fingers for him to see better. "Fenris… just… touch yourself for me?"

He gawked, but did as she asked, reaching down to his member with a sudden awkwardness. "As you wish," He whispered, and leaned over the table to place a hand beside her waist to steady himself.

"See?" Hawke soothed.

"No… no words," Fenris shook his head. They watched each other, panting for breath as they stroked and prodded, explored themselves as they explored each other's expressions. A sigh would elicit a gasp, and in turn Hawke would look away as a particularly strong flush peaked over her, and Fenris in turn breathed into her ear as his arm weakened.

They continued, listening to the small sounds each other made, each hissing intake of breath, each slick thrust of a digit, the creak of the table as Hawke rocked her hips or Fenris's knee nudged the table as he sped and slowed.

Hawke clenched her eyes closed as a wave of pleasure began to peak. Fenris panted into her ear, "Look at me," And Hawke squinted up between clenched teeth.

"Are you close?" She hissed back.

His breath came out ragged, but after licking his lips, he responded, "Yes."

And then he did what she didn't expect, and crushed his mouth against hers as she moaned, and she could feel in the way his teeth held her lip that he was climaxing too. They stayed locked together as the wave crashed over them both, until he broke the kiss with a gasp for breath and a groan of exhaustion.

Hawke let her head drop back against the table, panting and giggling ecstatically. Fenris looked past her as the lyrium flickered and dimmed beneath his skin, and his breaths finally slowed to a normal pace.

A drop of sweat fell onto Hawke's stomach, and she shivered for the first time that night. As she traced her hands across her abdomen, she also felt Fenris's seed in a small trail above her navel. She pinched it between her fingers and smirked at it as she spread her fingers in the dim light of the dying fireplace.

"I… I'm sorry about that," Fenris stammered, finally leaning back onto his knees to watch her cat-like.

"It's perfectly normal," Hawke laughed, and then shivered again at the chill that had settled over the room during their-what would she call it- love making? Hawke peered back at him then, searching for some confirmation from him if she had made things better or worse between them.

"That kiss, are you-?" Hawke pondered.

"It was a mistake," Fenris snapped.

Hawke's heart sank. She sat up on the edge of the table, glancing around for her things, suddenly feeling hollow and foolish. "Oh," She replied.

"But it was _my_ mistake," Fenris soothed, offering a her a ragged blanket from his own bed .

She grasped it greatfully, worrying her thumbs over the coarse weave, before bringing it up to her face to breathe in his scent. She coughed as a shiver wracked through her, and Fenris finally grabbed the blanket back and swirled it around her protectively. "Are you planning to die of the cold in my home?"

"Ha!" Hawke coughed out a chuckle, "Better to die of cold here than sleep in that heartless mansion-" Her breath caught in her chest as she realized what she had said.

Fenris stopped tugging the blanket around her roughly, and placed his hands on her shoulders, slowly rubbing warmth back into her with the blanket between them. "Is that what this is about?" He said softly.

Hawke looked away, and then gathered up the folds of fabric before her, and thumped her head down into the pile against his chest. "Flowers arrived today… for Mother," She groaned. "Today was her Nameday…"

Uncertain at first, Fenris finally closed his arms around Hawke, and squeezed more and more tightly so she could feel him despite the blankets. "I did not know… who sent the flowers?"

Hawke squeaked angrily, "Me! I had ordered them grown months ago, and forgotten the order!" She pressed her face into blanket dampening it with hiccuping sobs.

He stared into the disheveled room sorrowfully, finding no answer in his own chaotic surroundings. "You can stay," Fenris whispered, "but I will need one thing."

"What's that?" Hawke sniffed.

"Another blanket," Fenris smiled sadly, and placed the lightest of kisses into her hair.

By the time Fenris had returned from searching for another blanket, Hawke had gotten a few more logs onto the fire. Her shaking had subsided, and the tears had mostly dried, but now her eyes were red and puffy with odd smears of kohl across her cheekbones. She smirked as Fenris tried to hide a grimace of surprise at seeing her face. The awkward exchange of expressions eventually made her giggle, bringing more tears to her eyes but lifting some of the sorrow from her face. Fenris dragged his worn mattress nearer to the fire, and relaxed into his own blanket next to her.

After Hawke finally fell asleep within a bundle of blankets in his arms, Fenris allowed himself the pleasure of stroking her hair, and placing another soft kiss upon her head, before lacing his hands over hers, secretly reveling in the touch, even if there was still a barrier between them.


End file.
